Café
by LaurenGee
Summary: "I'm an unhappy artist. Remembering you while drawing you. Our tragic love that has become our only masterpiece. My heart is still a gallery full of you." –Big Bang (Café)
1. Pick Up

Café

Summary:

_People move on._

_We, as humans, continue to move forward in our lives even if something that was important to you dies away. Whether it was a dog that ran away, losing your favorite piece of jewelry, or having a loved one pass away, people still keep going. They continue their lives, believing that their heart will heal someday. They believe that they can endure life without them. People do that._

_I don't seem to be one of them._

**A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long. Life's been busy and sadly, I have to work hard to keep it going. Anyway, I'd like to explain some things while I was away. Ever since the school year started, I stopped writing. Sad to say. Two reasons: one, the laptop that I always wrote my stories in broke. (Don't worry; I managed to save everything into a USB) Two, school. (Obviously)**

**Anyway, I had been writing two stories before my laptop broke. For all my readers who've stuck with me for so long, you guys know that the next story I was supposed to come out with was G-Dragon's. It's not going very well. I just can't stick with one storyline for this dude. Like seriously. But don't fret, my dears. I have a few plot bunnies that I really wanna catch (;**

**So, I can safely say that Café is something else; something completely different. It may be cliché or may be something fresh. You decide. One thing's for sure-if you looked at the characters listed-our main man is Key from SHINee. I know, I know. I went out of my plan and skipped straight to SHINee after Big Bang. Whatevs. Can't do anything about it now, right? ****Now, I usually don't post the story until after I've already written the climax, but I'm just way too excited for everyone to read this and give me feedback that you guys will hopefully give. And so, without further ado, please look forward to this story! **

**I hope you enjoy! (:**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Pick Up**

_Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat._

The steady sound of my footsteps running over the wet pavement echoes throughout my empty neighborhood. I survey the area, looking at the pattern the houses made, their lights either turned on or off. I cough into my soaked sleeve. Ugh. I should have brought an umbrella with me before I went out. I squint down at my clothes, the heavy rain making it hard to see clearly.

_Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat._

Suddenly, the noise of my feet annoys me. I lightly touch my forehead. I feel a headache coming. Forcing myself to run faster, I get to my small home sitting right on the curb of my neighborhood. My eyes cautiously land on a tiny figure sitting right in front of my door. I narrow my eyes, examining the person crouched into a ball. I tightly clench my house keys in my pocket, feeling my keychain pierce my palm. Ignoring the minimal pain, I approach the slim figure. I hear the person repeatedly sniff.

Lightly, I touch the person's shoulder. They jump, back on their feet. A woman. I cock my head to the side as she avoids my gaze. "May I help you with something?" I ask loudly, the hefty rain making it hard to hear.

Her lips move, hardly. I furrow my eyebrows. I lean in closer to hear. Almost scared, she takes a step back, her soaked back hitting the brick wall. I move back to my original position, not wanting to frighten her. Peering up at the roof above our heads, the rain pours. Loud. It almost sounds like bullets colliding against my poor, worn-out roof.

Turning my gaze back to the woman, I see her shivering. With a sigh, I turn and unlock my door. Behind me, I hear her gasp. I wonder why. I enter my dark house and make a gesture for her to enter. Finally, she meets my eyes. Red and swollen, it looks like she's been crying. I feel my attitude soften.

"Come inside. We'll both get sick if we stay out here." I murmur, knowing that she can hear me. She simply stands there, looking between my face and the darkness behind me. I sigh, my hand out towards her. "I'm not going to do anything dangerous to you. I just figured you wanted to warm up."

Hesitantly, she takes my hand, the tips of her fingers gently brushing my palm. I stifle a gasp. I tightly grasp her hand and pull her inside, locking the door. I walk in front of her and turn on my kitchen lights. I hear her take nervous steps as she moves away from the front door. "Please, sit. Would you like a blanket?" I ask her gently.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide. She shakes her head. I simply shrug, going back into the kitchen to make coffee. "Would you like some coffee?" I ask her once more, trying to accommodate her. I keep my back towards her, wanting to hear her voice.

I hear her clear her throat. "Yes, please." She croaks out. I feel my eyebrows scrunch up. Her voice was weak, tight. It was as if someone rubbed sandpaper against it for hours. I only nod, not trusting my voice at the moment. I hear her shift around the couch. Then I hear the steady slosh of water hitting against my wooden floors. Mentally, I cringe. I should have made her take off her shoes. With a pause, I look down from my shoes.

Soaked and battered. These were expensive, too. I continue my work, concentrating on making coffee. As I wait for the pot to heat up, I turn around, leaning against the counter. Wordlessly, I watch the woman walk around my living room, no doubt eyeing the artwork all over the table and walls. She catches my eyes before she looks away, going back to her seat as if I caught her doing something terrible. She didn't notice the way I turned stiff from the sight of her eyes.

I never noticed that they were a dark shade of green. Almost discreetly, she peers down at my artwork sprawled all over the coffee table. I study her profile intently.

_Click!_

I jump at the sound and turn back around to put finishing touches to our coffee. "How would you like your coffee?" I call out to her, keeping my back turned.

She takes a moment to reply. "Whatever is fine." She mumbles out. In a few minutes, I come to the living room, two cups of hot coffee in my rough hands. I push some papers away with my elbow and carefully place the coffee in front of her. "Thank you." She grumbles, her voice still stiff.

I sit back on my own chair, taking a sip from my cup as she does the same. "So, what brings you here in front of my house?" I straightforwardly ask her. I might as well get to the point.

She freezes, the rim of the cup against her chapped lips. She only stares at the inside of the coffee. Patiently, I wait for her to answer. Setting down her cup gently, she responds, "How long have you lived in this house?"

My eyebrows raise, clearly surprised. "Excuse me?" She only looks at me expectantly, knowing I fully heard her question. "Uh, I've been here for seven years already."

"Seven years?" She squeaks. I raise an eyebrow, questioning. She hangs her head low, biting her lip. "Um, I'm sorry. I was just surprised." The corners of her lips turn upwards awkwardly.

I flex my fingers, having the sudden urge to sketch her profile. I eye a blank piece of paper on the coffee table. "Why so?" I ask her, ignoring the strong urge.

She lifts up her shoulders, shrugging.

"You're not much of a talker, aren't you?"

This time she lets out a soft chuckle. "You don't seem to be one, either. Artists are usually the shy, reserved type, am I right?" She meets my eyes, her eyes dark green and alluring.

"Not all artists are like that." I dismiss, slightly disoriented by the sight of her eyes. I flex my fingers again, cracking some of my knuckles.

"Of course not," she finally cracks a smile at me, barely showing her teeth. "You have a little twist."

"Excuse me?" I grunt in shock. She keeps her smile in place, gazing at me up and down. Her green eyes follow my every feature on my face, my arms, and my neck. Suddenly, something hits me. I squint, analyzing her actions. Somehow, someway, she reminds me of something. For now, I couldn't tell what, but I now know that this woman isn't all as fragile as I perceived her to be. Without thinking, I smirk. "Speak for yourself, ma'am."

She only smiles, looking almost like a grimace.


	2. The Artwork

"So, would you like to stay for the night? I have a guestroom and it's fully prepared—"

"That would be wonderful. Thank you." She murmurs, politely cutting me off.

I nod, getting up from the couch and heading towards the room. I look in the closet, rifling through the extra art supplies I stuffed in here. All the way on the top shelf, I find a few stiff blankets. I unfold them and slap them against the wall repeatedly, trying to get as much dust away as possible.

I hear her sloshing feet walk in the room, her even breathing almost echoing in my ears. "Do you sell your art?" She mumbles.

I neatly fold the blankets back on the bed, sighing from the little effort I made. "No, I don't." I only reply.

"Do you have a job that requires you sketching?"

I shake my head. At the corner of my eyes, she looks through one of my many notebooks. I feel myself tense up, my fingers suddenly fidgety as I fix the blanket. I notice the light blue coloring on the bind, noting that she's only looking through my landscape sketches. Slightly, I sigh. I feel her strong gaze hitting me each time the pages turn slowly. I turn around to look at her abruptly. I gesture towards the bed. "I hope you don't mind the blankets. They're a little rigid. If you want, you can take a shower." I suggest, my voice a tad gruff from the sight of her having one of my notebooks in her hands.

She stares at me for a minute before replying. "I'd like that. Thanks." She hands me my notebook, a small smirk touching her lips. I refrain myself from snatching it out of her hands. Instead, I casually take it from her and hide it under my arm, twitching.

"I'll go see if I have any clothes that might fit you." I awkwardly tell her, walking down the hallway. I grumble incoherent words under my breath, tightly gripping onto my notebook.

"I'll just leave my clothes outside the door. Do you mind if you just wash them instead?" She calls out. I look over my shoulder. Her head sticks out from the room; her black wet strands of hair fall down all over her shoulders, dripping water all over the floor. Mentally, I cringe at the sight. My whole floor could be soaked by now with both of us walking everywhere. Her green eyes pierce into mine, almost amused.

"Will do." I mutter, nodding. As I walk back to the living room, I say, "Bathroom's down the hall to the left."

"Thanks." She whispers. I glance at her over my shoulder, watching her drenched form quickly running down the bathroom. I smile a bit as I notice her bare feet padding through the hall. At least the girl has some manners.

~O~O~

After wiping the floors and the couch dry, I sit down. Taking a sip from my cold, forgotten coffee, I glare at the light blue notebook. I cringe from the thought of her holding it, flipping through it. I glance around the rest of my living room. Tons and tons of notebooks are sprawled all around, some open and some closed. I take a look at the walls where I have drawn some doodles all over. Most people would be appalled at the sight of the drawings on the walls. They would call it unsanitary, reckless. But really, I'm not one of them.

I'm an artist and my fingers always itch to sketch. What can I do when I can't find a single piece of blank paper around my house? I don't really mind the drawings across my walls; it kind of blends in well with the rest of the house considering how almost every room has a stack of papers. I peer down the hallway, listening to the shower run. Believe it or not, she's the only person who has ever stepped foot into this house ever since I've moved in seven years ago.

I let out a long breath. Not even my family knows that I can draw. Nobody knows. Staring between the hall and the light blue notebook, I drop my head into my hands. I close my eyes slowly, my breaths going steady. I tap my fingers along my skull, wondering, imagining. I listen for the shower again. The steady thumps of water hit against the bathtub and the roar of the dryer make it sound like the rain and thunder outside. It all blends in too well.

Hesitantly, I pick up a deep purple colored notebook, opening it up to a blank page. I unlatch a small briefcase-looking box and I adoringly gaze all my collection of pencils, pens, and colors. I look down at the blank sheet and back at the hallway. I take my pick and close the box, sliding it under the table. I shakily hover the pencil over the paper, hesitating once more.

When I finally decide, the woman emerges from behind the wall, peering her head out. "Clothes?"

I jump up from my seat. Of course I would forget. I throw my notebook and pencil on the table irritably. I quickly go to the laundry room, avoiding her form in a towel. I toss her the clothes and quickly walk out, hiding the slight red hue that rushed up to my cheeks.

"Thanks. Again." She chuckles, her voice a little hoarse. She still must be recovering from crying in the rain. I grow still. That's right, she hasn't even told me why she ended up in front of my house. I hear the bathroom door close shut. I bite the inner part of my cheeks. I should just wait until she's fully clothed to interrogate her.

I glance at the neglected notebook and pencil on the table. No. I can't draw right now, especially if my certain inspiration is in my bathroom. Minutes pass by like hours until she finally comes back, lingering between the hall and the living room. I gesture for her to sit back on the couch, but she shakes her head. "If you don't mind, I'd like to head to bed now. I've been out all day and night." She blurts out, folding her hands in front of her like a scolded child.

I watch her for a second. "Alright. Sleep well." I approve with a sigh.

She goes towards the guestroom. I look down at my notebook again, contemplating deeply. "By the way," I hear her voice. I meet her eyes, taunting and inviting. The corners of her lips turn upwards in a small smile. "I don't understand why you don't want to show people your drawings. You have an amazing talent."

With that, she turns and escapes to the guestroom. The suddenly quiet house makes the click of the door echo, making a shiver run down my back.


	3. Morning Wonders

"Thank you again for letting me sleep here for the night."

"It's no problem." I mumble, quickly closing the deep purple notebook and resting it on the dining table. She walks into the room, clad in her clothes from last night. Her hair cascades down her back and shoulders in waves. I take note of the color, an auburn color rather than the black I saw when her hair was still wet. "Would you like some breakfast?"

Her dark green eyes briefly glance at my notebook, a questioning look displayed. As she looks back at me, she blushes. "I'd love to."

I intently observe her face shamelessly, remembering they way the red-pinkish hue colors right under her cheekbones. "Grab whatever you want. There's coffee ready in the pot." I murmur, looking away. I stare blankly out the open window, my body aware of the woman in front of me. At the corner of my eyes, she hesitantly stands up and gets coffee.

In a few minutes, she comes back, nibbling on a piece of toast. "The cream mixes really well with the coffee. It's fantastic. Where'd you buy it?" She asks politely, making small talk.

I lightly shrug. "It wasn't bought."

She looks up at me then, our eyes meeting. "Oh? Family recipe?"

"Something like that."

She only nods, but she's clearly disappointed at my rough end to a conversation. After a moment, she tries again. "Do you live alone?"

I nod my head, taking a sip of my own coffee. I spot the red notebook resting on the windowsill. I switch it with my purple one, slowly opening it to a blank page all the way in the middle. I adjust the position of my cup of coffee, quickly analyzing the colors and the way the sunlight hits the side. I hesitate for a moment as I feel her eyes on me. I tightly grip my pencil.

"You really don't talk much, huh?" She asks. Her voice came out as light and joking. Instead, I hear the tone behind it, cautious and approaching. I look up at her under my messy black hair.

"Is it bothering you?"

She thinks for a moment. "A little, yes."

"I'm sorry." I simply reply, my eyes going back down to my sketchpad.

"You really don't like talking. Why?"

"That's just how I am. I'm an artist, remember?" I hold her eyes again, my tone almost mocking.

She flashes a small smile again, her green eyes almost glowing from the sunlight. "But you have a twist, remember?" She retorts.

My eyes turn into slits as I look at her up and down. What kind of person is she? This time, she ignores my stare and continues to nibble on her toast. I watch her eyes move all around the room, avoiding my eyes. Her fingers play with the crust of the toast, making the crumbs fall all over the clean plate. "What exactly are you hiding?" I blurt out accidentally. I stay composed as she freezes.

"What do you mean?" She asks, her eyes wide with… astonishment?

I take her reaction as a boost of confidence. I slap the notebook on top of the table, slightly making her jump. I lean forward on the table, propping my elbows up. "There's something about you that makes me wonder."

"Wonder about what?" She questions, her eyes suddenly look anxious and somewhat amused.

"Everything. I wonder about how you ended up at my front door, why you were crying that night in the rain, why your moods change really quickly, why your eyes are always wandering and analyzing, why you always take a moment to reply back to me, why your words are always so cautious, and what your name is." I let out a small huff, realizing that I've never spoke that much since a long time ago. I shift in my seat, taking a sip from my coffee. My throat burns from the liquid.

She looks up at me, her back straightened somewhere in between my rant. I note that her eyes are once again looking through all my features. She looks at my hair, my eyes, my nose, my lips, and my cheeks. Everything. She meets my gaze once more, thinking. She rises up from her seat. "Lina."

"Pardon me?" I utter, taken aback.

She glances at the purple notebook before looking back at me. "My name. It's Lina." She turns and heads for the guestroom. Without thinking, I follow her. Lina. What a pretty name. She briefly looks around the guestroom and closes the door again. She stops in her tracks, staring at me up and down. She cocks her head to the side, her wavy brown hair swinging. "I'll be going now."

In an instant, I'm not looking into a dark shade of green, only the dull white of the guestroom door. Her footsteps don't even make a sound. I quickly go to the living room, finding her back walking towards the front door. As the door opens, I squint from the brightness. The sunlight instantly engulfs her whole figure. Only her hair and eyes are visible.

"I'm sorry for running out on you so quickly." She mumbles. "I have things to do, and I'm kind of late for something."

"Yeah, like going to the police to report a crime." I mutter sarcastically.

She lets out a squeak, making me immediately on the edge. What _is _she hiding? "Is there something you know that I should know?" I hear her slowly ask, her grip on the doorknob tightens.

I only shrug. "You tell me."

"Look," She sighs, rubbing her temples. "If there's something I should know, you have to tell me. I need to know things." She looks at me expectantly. I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. Instead of relying on my words, I keep my mouth shut. Realizing that I'm not going to say anything any time soon, she lets out another sigh. "Fine." She mutters. She grabs something in her back pocket. I think I hear her cursing under her breath. She hands me a piece of paper.

I take it and glance down. It's an address. "This isn't my house." She quickly assures me. "I have a feeling that there's something here, but… How about you meet me at that place next Friday?"

"I think you said that you're late for something." I dully dismiss. I grab the doorknob and gesture her to go outside. Once she steps out, I start to close the door. In a swift move, she stops the door, her tiny hand keeping me from slamming the door in her face.

She looks at me for a minute while she nibbles on her lip. "I'll be there. Exactly one. Next Friday. I hope you go."

"Goodbye, Lina." I grunt, hastily closing the door.


	4. Coffee Order

I sip my second cup of hot cocoa as I briefly survey the café. It's looks worn-down, giving it a home-like feel. I press my lips together and shift in my seat anxiously. I glance at the clock set on the wall. It's twelve fifty-two in the afternoon. I unconsciously tap the end of my pencil against the mint green notebook, casting my eyes down as people walk by to enter the restrooms.

Maybe I shouldn't have chosen a table all the way at the back of the café. But I feel comfortable, private. It's just like my home. And this angle gives me the full view of the whole café. I continue to sketch the structure of the place, giving full detail to the arch of the walls, the glow of the dim lights, the reflections of the windows, and the equipment on the counter where the workers diligently make the coffee. I inhale deeply, taking in the rich smell of the caffeine.

The jingle of bells pulls my attention towards the front doors. I watch a familiar figure enter the place, her dark green eyes instantly looking around the café. She smiles a small smile at the workers who happily greet her. I keep quiet, not wanting to give away my location at the moment. I glance at the clock once more. She's right on time. Exactly one.

Then the click of heels vibrates through my ears. Instead of looking down, I meet Lina's eyes. She lets out a smile, her white teeth actually showing this time. Her green eyes are surrounded by brown eye makeup as they turn into slits. I tightly grip my pencil, unconsciously remembering the way she smiles. Already comfortable, she sits herself down on the chair across from me, resting her hands on the table.

"I'm glad you came." She says, her smile still intact. I only grunt in response, closing my notebook and setting it on the table. Her eyes glance at it before a waiter approaches us. "I'd like to have an ice coffee. Espresso. Double shot." She orders.

I raise an eyebrow. She doesn't seem to be the type to order that kind. The waiter turns to me, looking at my empty two cups of hot cocoa. I shake my head.

"He'll have the same thing."

Surprised, I meet her eyes. She merely shrugs as the waiter walks away after picking up my empty cups. "I drank enough coffee." I tell her.

She stares at me. "You've only been drinking hot chocolate."

I jolt forward in surprise, my eyes still locked with her green ones. "How did you know that?" I whisper lowly.

"You don't seem to be the type to drink coffee unless it's made by your own hands, am I right?"

I scoff and look out the window, at a loss for words. How would she know such a thing? To know what I drank is one thing but accurately guessing my kind of preference is uncanny. I hear her softly chuckle under her breath, tapping her fingers against the table. After a few moments of silence, our drinks come. I stare at the tall glass, eyeing the color and the contents.

"Try it."

My eyes slide up to meet hers. She's already sipping on the straw, slightly making slurp sounds. Hesitantly, I take a sip of it, the taste exploding in my mouth. I keep my face composed even though I take another big gulp.

"Good, isn't it?" She asks, her drink already half empty.

I can only nod. I reach down and grab my small backpack from the floor. I switch my mint green notebook with the red one. I flip to a random empty page and start sketching the basic structure of the coffee. As I take another look at the cup, her dark eyes catch my attention. Her eyes are peered down, curiously eyeing my notebook. Noticing that I've stopped drawing, she meets my eyes, sheepish.

She nudges her chin in the direction of my notebook. "Why do you have different colored notebooks?"

I tense up and look away, out towards the window. "I can't have different colored notebooks?"

"Come on, now." She rolls her eyes. "You switch them whenever you have a certain inspiration. Light blue are your scenery sketches, isn't it?"

"Have you done a background check on me or something?" I snap, angrily meeting her eyes. I close the notebook shut. "How do you know so much?"

She blinks a few times. I smirk, amused that I finally caught her off guard. "You're like an open book," she retorts, quickly changing her expression. I shake my head. There's nothing I can get out of this woman. "So, red notebooks are your drink sketches?"

I shake my head once more, focusing on drawing.

"Food, then?" I briefly freeze then continue to move my hand. Hoping that she didn't notice the action, I keep my eyes trained on the paper. She giggles under her breath until it turns out to be a full fit of laughter. I look up at her in shock, cocking my head to the side. Has she gone mad? She wipes her eyes as if she laughed hard enough to bring her to tears. "Like an open book," she repeats.

I mentally wince at the words. Was I really that easy? I observe the bright smiling woman in front of me. She takes a small sip from her cup and contentedly looks out the window. The dim lighting gives her face a shadow; her cheekbones and lips are only visible. And when she looks back at me, her lips turn upwards in a smile, instantly making me realize that she's the type that barely shows her teeth. Her usually dark green eyes look extremely darker under the shadows and I spot the dark circles that hide from the amount of makeup she must've applied on today. Her face is immediately etched in my mind.

"So, tell me," I sniff, shaking away my previous thoughts. I lean forward, her eyes following my every move. "Why were you in front of my front door last week?"

That small smile drops in an instant.


	5. Bitter Taste

"That's not important," she mutters, faintly hanging her head. If I weren't intently watching her, I would've missed the action. Except I was watching her and I did see the movement. And it spoke loudly.

I squint, cautious on my next words. I've been speaking without thinking lately, so I might as well try to approach her gently this time. "Of course it's important. You were sitting in front of _my _door at _my _house. I think I deserve an answer."

She keeps her face low, as if the table suddenly held her interest. Her mouth opens and closes a few times. She lets out a sigh. "Look, I'm sorry, but I still don't see why it's your business to—"

"Why were you crying?" So much for the gentle approach.

"Excuse me, but I was not—"

"Yes, you were," I argue, leaning farther over the table. I was close enough to see her exquisite features despite the shadows. I bite back the smile that's itching to come out. "Don't think that the rain hid your face. I saw you. Your eyes were swollen."

She stares right into my eyes, her eyebrows furrowing. She tightly presses her lips together as her eyes start to redden. Her breathing increases. My forehead wrinkles at her sudden watering eyes. This wasn't the kind of reaction I was expecting. Tentatively, I reach out and softly cup her cheek. She lets out a gasp, yet I choose to ignore it. My thumb grazes the bottom of her saddened eyes. Her mascara-covered eyelashes tickle the tip of my thumb. "Just like that," I whisper.

Letting out a shaky breath, she pushes my hand away. She turns her head to look back out at the window. "This is the twist, isn't it?"

I slump in my seat, flexing my fingers from her withdrawal. "What twist?" I mutter, keeping my eyes on my fingers.

"Your twist."

I chuckle lowly and look out the window as well. "I'm an artist. We are expected to have excellent eyes."

"Memory, too, I bet."

I only nod.

"It's such a pretty day outside. Not a cloud in sight," she sighs, changing the subject. My eyebrows furrow as I look up at the sky. Couldn't she see the dark clouds coming in towards the left? I even watch a man in a business suit pull an umbrella from his bag across the street. "By the way," she says, calling my attention. I look back and meet her eyes. "What is your name?"

I actually crack a smile. "You already know so much about me yet you don't know my name?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Odd, isn't it?" She smiles in return.

"Kibum." I mumble, putting my focus back on my drawing.

I hear her repeat my name under her breath as if she was expecting to see me again. "And your last name?"

I peer up at her from under my hair. "I see no point in telling you my surname when you haven't told me yours."

"Ah," she breathes out. "A call for a call. I didn't think you were that type of man." She finished the remaining coffee in her cup, her straw childishly making slurping sounds.

"Twist."

She grins at my response. "I'm sure that's not your only one."

"Right back at you," I wittily reply. "Although, you don't seem to give out much."

"Yet you seem to see right through me." She challenges.

"Not yet, anyway."

She smiles wider, looking pleased at my reply. Out of nowhere, an obnoxious ring comes from our table. I spot her phone that I never realized was there the whole time. She takes a quick glance at the phone before covering up the screen, noticing my wandering eyes. She tucks her phone in her pocket, slipping on a cardigan that I didn't notice she was wearing before. Silently scooting her chair back, she flashes an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, but someone's calling for me." She stands up to leave.

Abruptly, I feel the anger and irritation rise within me from the brief sight at a male name light up her phone. "Your boyfriend?"

Her shoulders tense and she looks over her shoulder at me. Her face is calm, but I see the bewilderment floating in her eyes. Even the dim lighting couldn't hide that. As fast as it came, the surprise disappears and her green orbs are hard. Careful. "Exactly what do you know about that?"

"Are you asking that because you do have a boyfriend or are you asking that because you're hiding something?" I argue.

She turns to fully face me, her hands on her hips. Her glare was something that could possibly kill a person. But I'm not backing down. Her jaw clenches. "You know nothing." She growls.

"Do I?"

"Nothing," she repeats, a final tone in her voice. She starts to walk away once more.

I let out a laugh, almost sounding hysterical. "This must be your twist, huh?" She stops in her tracks again; this time, she isn't looking back at me. I stay seated, comfortably resting my hands on my lap. Knowing that she isn't going to reply, I continue, "I remember you said that I seem to see right through you just a few minutes ago. I might just figure out your twist before you figure out mine."

"I don't think you understand, Kibum," she murmurs, her voice low and dangerous. She walks back towards me; giving me the satisfaction that I managed to get this kind of reaction out of her. She rests both of her hands on the table and evens her face with mine. The strong, stale smell of coffee enters my nose as she breathes heavily. She's too worked up. "My twist is pretty complicated. I don't think you'll be able to figure it out so quickly."

"Ah well, that's where you don't understand, Lina," I say mockingly. "My twist isn't a simple puzzle you can easily put together. I don't throw out all the pieces at once."

She smirks. This time it wasn't gentle or sweet. This was taunting. Taunting me. "I think we're going to be seeing each other a lot more often in the next few days."

"It would be my pleasure."

Her eyebrows scrunch up as she assesses my face. I don't move away from our close proximity. "Meet me here again. Same time, same day."

Instead of replying, I grab my cup and finish off what's left of the coffee. The once sweet and creamy explosion now tastes bitter and dry as my eyes follow the woman with the cautious and dangerous attitude out the door.

* * *

**A/N: So, how is it so far? (:**


	6. Her Simplicity

There was just something about that woman that had me hysterical on drawing her. Ever since that meeting with her at that café four days ago, I've been on a rampage. Loose papers are strewn all over my room, the once blank sheets now covered in freshly colored green, brown, and black. This would seem too overboard to most people. No, even worse. This would be deemed as obsessive even to my closest family members.

But there was just something about Lina that kept me on my toes. Her analytical green eyes and her trademark smile was an inspiration. I fall back against my bed, the lamp on my bedside table only lighting up half of the room. The moonlight from my open window illuminates the other half. I gaze at the sheets filled with the many angles of her faces. One picture has her eyes bore right into mine, her smirk alluring.

Simple.

I think that's why she holds my interest. Aside from the fact that I find her everything beautiful, it's just actually simple. Her smile is something that's seen everyday on the streets. The eyes can be easily viewed on television. Wavy, auburn hair is commonly found in almost every woman. But I think it's the way that I know the personality behind the face. I've heard the voice coming out of that smile. I've seen raw emotions swim in those eyes.

It's her personality, her aura. I've only met her not long ago yet she was like my own personal piece of art that I needed to decipher. She was simple. But every artist knows that the simplest art convey the biggest meaning. For Lina, she carries the biggest mystery. I think that's why I have this sudden appeal of determination to figure out just what she carries.

_"My twist is pretty complicated. I don't think you'll be able to figure it out so quickly."_

A shiver rolls down my spine and I hug my pillow. I take a short scan around my room, my heart a little loud in my ears. Noting that I'm alone, I turn my gaze back at the ceiling. My head still reels from our time in the café. Throughout our whole hour together, I notice the cautious way she spoke her words. She was always either cautious and calm or witty and carefree. But those words were dangerous. Almost haunting.

I close my eyes tightly and hug the cold pillow closer. I fight the anxiousness rising in my chest, taking deep breaths. She's a simple piece of art that could possibly hold the most dangerous meaning. A freezing breeze enters my room just then. The cold bites down on my skin. Goosebumps form all over my arms and legs despite the thick clothing. A barely-there whisper infiltrates my ears. I abruptly jump out of bed and slam the window shut. I smile weakly at my reflection.

Then again I'm quite dangerous myself.

~O~O~

I sit down on the floor, contemplating. I stare blankly at my front door while my fingers play with the buttons on my bag. It's Friday in the afternoon. The sunlight is barely noticeable with dark clouds covering it up. It's going to rain soon. She would have to cancel this café meeting today, right? A woman like her seems like the kind to stay indoors.

_Ding Dong! Ding Dong!_

"Lina?" I incredulously sputter as I answer the door.

But I guess this woman has many surprises up her sleeve.

I take in her happy appearance despite the gloomy weather. "Hi!" She smiles, walking past me and entering my house. I turn around, bewildered at the sight of her. She makes herself comfortable on my couch. I walk towards her, leaving my front door wide open.

We lock eyes and I open my mouth to say something. I close it back up. I choose to approach her carefully. "I thought we were meeting at the café," I mutter.

"I didn't want to wait until one," she simply replies. Her eyes look back to my covered walls. Her gaze lingers on each of my doodles, intrigued.

"So, you decide to come here?" I ask, still not understanding this woman's logic.

She merely shrugs. "I thought that we could walk together. Waste some time."

I let out a sigh. "You do realize that it's about rain." I say it as a statement instead of an answer, a little annoyed at her way of thinking.

"Of course. That's the fun part." She laughs, rising up from the couch. She turns to me, her trademark smile in place. As she walks towards the open door, she says, "Don't bring an umbrella!"

I close my eyes for a minute or two, still contemplating on whether or not I should go. I distinctly hear her shout from my lawn and I let out a deep sigh. I guess I have no choice. She's already here anyway. I lock my door on my way out and find Lina waiting for me, her face amused.

"I didn't realize you had so many mood swings," I mutter, keeping my pace steady with hers. We walk side by side on the sidewalk, the air around us awkward.

"Twist." She replies, smiling up at me.

I hold back a snort and look away. Twist? I doubt that. If anything, I should be the one to claim that my mood swings are a twist. But I suppose I still have a lot of work to figure her out. I glance back at her a few times. She looks around at the houses as we exit my neighborhood. Her eyes are back to being analytical. She's thinking.

A loud thunderclap echoes suddenly. We both jump at the sound. My hands automatically grab onto my bag full of my notebooks. I peer up at the sky, noticing how the sky is getting darker. My heart rams wildly against my chest. I look back down at Lina to make sure she's fine. She seemed to have the same train of thought as I did as I watch her carefully clutch on to her purse at her side. She meets my eyes.

I smirk. "Scared of thunder?"

"Far from it." She chuckles. "And you?"

Another clap of thunder resonates and my hands ball up into fists unconsciously. She quickly looks away, once again cautiously eyeing our surroundings. "A bit," I murmur under my breath.


	7. Subdued Thunder

I'm actually terrified of thunder.

Maybe it was because of my circumstances or not, I hate the crack of thunder. Rain, I can make do as long as it doesn't pour hard enough for me to lose my sense of sight. If that's the case then we have a problem. I was hesitant on meeting her at the café today for only two reasons. One was because of our tense exchange from our last meeting. Another reason was because I knew it was going to rain.

Rainy days like this usually had me under my blankets in bed, huddled in a ball to rid myself from the world. Because when it rained, it gave this world another point of view for me. And I don't enjoy it.

"Don't worry," Lina murmurs out of nowhere. As I look at her, she keeps her gaze straight ahead. "We're almost there."

I lowly grunt in response, somewhat taken aback by the tone in her voice. Thoughtful. Her voice was thoughtful and sympathetic. I could've sworn she didn't hear me when I admitted it out loud. Then again, this woman is incredible for seeing right through me. Mind you, that'll be the only compliment I give her on that. I'm still agitated that she can read me like an open book.

True to her words, we reach the café. We choose to sit down at the table where we last sat, which I'm grateful for. The need to feel secluded was stronger than ever. I tightly ball my hands into fists as I take a quick peek at the window beside me. A shiver rolls down my spine at the sight. I look back and meet a pair of curious green eyes.

"What do you want to drink?" Lina asks, nodding her head up at the waiter. As if seeing the distress in my eyes, she decides for me. "We'll both get an ice coffee. Espresso. Double shot."

Once the waiter leaves, I feel her strong gaze land back on me. "What?" I mumble, flexing my fingers anxiously.

She opens her mouth to say something. I meet her eyes, wondering if she was going to call me out on my fear. "So, how was your week?" She questions instead. I feel my eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. Whatever she was about to say was quickly changed.

I shrug, a little relieved at the change of subject to keep myself distracted.

"Did you do anything?"

I merely shake my head, still flexing my fingers.

I hear her sigh. "Look, if you want to be distracted from the rain, you might as well make conversation."

"I'm not scared of the rain," I reply, keeping my voice and face calm.

Abruptly, she reaches over the table and grabs my hands from the armrests. She places them on the table. I look up at her in shock. Her usual smile creeps on her face, thoughtful. "If you're not scared then stop fidgeting." She softly murmurs. Her thumbs trace circles into my palm calmly.

I swallow hard and look away, prying my hands away from hers. "Fine," I mutter, clearly bewildered at her action.

Our drinks come then. Silence unfolds around us as we sip on our coffee, the taste exploding in my mouth once again. The drink was delicious. As I keep my eyes on her, I take a glance at my bag on the floor. I stop myself from flexing my fingers again. "Go ahead."

"Excuse me?" I ask, meeting Lina's eyes again.

She looks under the table and smiles. "Start drawing. I don't mind this silence."

Without hesitation, I snatch my bag from the floor and pull out my mint green notebook. I flip to the unfinished page of the café drawing. I start shading in the places where the shadows touch. Glancing up every once in a while, I notice that she wasn't looking out the window anymore. She was looking at me, a touch of a smile on her face. "What?" I ask, pausing.

She shrugs. "You seem so concentrated when you draw. The world could be on fire and you would still sit here in peace."

I take a moment, thinking. She looks at me as if she knows I'm going to reply, but after a few more minutes, she looks back out the window. She sighs and takes a sip from her cup. "My art is my world," I lowly mutter. My cheeks heat up as she puts her gaze back on me. I hang my head low to continue drawing, hiding my blush from her.

It was a foolish thing to say, I know. But after saying it out loud, it seemed so right. It feels good. There was never a time when I've talked about my art with an actual person. Having Lina here and watch me is almost surreal. It was like she was just a figment of my imagination. Almost like a beautiful work of art that only my mind made to keep me from being completely isolated.

Then I meet her eyes and I know. This is real. _She's _real. She's here, looking at me with her vivid green eyes and usual smile. Unconsciously, I flex my fingers. Uncertainty bubbles inside my chest as I reach out and slide my hand under hers. She doesn't say a word, which I'm grateful for. However, her eyes break contact with mine and she watches my hand graze hers. Her eyebrows scrunch up. Why so? I'm not sure. I can't fully read her this time for I'm caught up in her appearance. Her beauty. Her simplicity.

With shaky movements, I gently play with her fingers. A surge of electricity rolls within me at the touch. I hear booming thunder roar outside the window, but the sound soon fades to the background. Not even a single hum enters my ears. Just her. Everything about her.

Like a bullet, I finally register my actions. I pull away from her as if I've been burned. "Sorry," I mumble. She still doesn't say a word, and I refuse to look at her this time. I keep my hands on my lap under the table, flexing my fingers once again. Whether it was because of her appearance or her meaning, this woman has me attached. I was never a people person, but I grew fond of her. I shouldn't be. I know I need to stay in that protective shell that I've made for myself, but the pull towards this woman is intense.

She might just become one of my most precious work of art.


	8. Colored Notebooks

"We're going to get sick if we keep walking," I mutter, kicking a few rocks out of my path. The rain roughly pours all over us, making it hard to see. My body is tense, rigid. I can't even make the slightest movement with my fear crawling all over me.

"I thought you said you weren't scared of the rain," she says cheerily. Unlike me, she skips around, reaching her hands out to touch the raindrops.

"I'm not scared of the rain," I growl. "I just don't want to get sick."

"No money for a doctor?"

"What?" I stop in my track from her absurd question. I shake my head as she looks back at me, a joking grin on her face. I continue walking. "Come on."

"What time is it?" She asks, lightly tugging on my arm.

"How am I supposed to know? I can't see anything." I stuff my fists into my pockets, my body completely stiff. I want to go home. I should have never followed her to the café today.

She wipes her eyes, an action useless as the rain continues to pour over us. Her casual light makeup now leaves streaks down her cheeks. "We need to hurry," I yell over the thunder. As we start to run, I survey the area and see that we're already in my neighborhood. I blink continually to wash away the new world forming right in front of my eyes. I really hate this kind of weather.

Soon enough, we stumble into my house, my front door creaking in protest from the sudden open. I walk ahead with her on my heels, turning on the lights and running to the closet for towels. As I toss her one, I drop my towel and start wiping the wooden floors. "I thought you didn't want to get sick," she says, drying her hair with her towel.

"I don't," I mutter, wiping the floors all the way to the front door. She silently sits down on the couch, making sure the extra towel she's sitting on isn't soaking the couch.

"Then worry about yourself before the floors," she retaliates, waving me over to sit down.

With a sigh, I plop down at the other end of the couch. I feel my eyelids droop from the sudden exhaustion. My eyes snap back open when I hear the woman sneeze twice. "We should have ran," I tell her after saying a quiet, "Bless you."

She shrugs. "It was worth it."

I growl in frustration. "No, it wasn't."

"Didn't you have fun? I don't see why you dislike the rain so much."

"It's not the rain!" I burst out. I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my head into my hands, avoiding her stunned gaze. I let out a sigh after a quiet moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout," I whisper, regaining my composure.

Just then, I feel a towel rubbing my head back and forth. I raise my head up in shock. Lina softly smiles next to me as she continues to dry my soaked hair. My fingers flex and I forcefully ball them into fists. I stay still as she continues her actions. Silence unfolds. I could practically hear the clock ticking to fill this silence in.

"Light blue is for scenery and landscape," she abruptly murmurs. I ignore the slight tickle in my ear as I realize she's closer to me than I expected. She stops and brings her hands down on her lap.

"Pardon?"

"Red is for food," she murmurs once again. I turn my head to look at her. Her face is at a safe distance, but I'm close enough to see a detailed structure of her eyes. Jade. That's her exact eye color. I find myself committing the exact shade to memory. Her lips turn upwards into a smile. "Mint green for buildings." Then it finally dawns on me that she's talking about my notebooks. I look away and eye my wet and battered bag. "What's purple?"

I don't say anything. She sighs as if she knows I'm not going to answer. Just when she reaches up to dry my hair, I blurt out softly, "People."

Her hands fall back into her lap. "Purple is for people?"

I only nod and stand up. I look down at her eyes, her expression more curious than ever. "You're welcome to stay the night at the guestroom since it's pouring. But I could get you a cab and lend you an umbrella to—"

"Do you mind if I stay here for the night?" She suddenly asks, standing up as well. Her lips curl up in her usual smile.

I look away, hesitant. I was really hoping for her to choose the latter option. I glance out the window and thunder booms outside loudly. "Go ahead and dry yourself in the guestroom. Extra towels are in the closet."

With a grin, she hesitantly pats my arm and murmurs a quick thank you before running off to the room. Queasy in the stomach, I walk to my room, running my fingers through my hair angrily. There was something about that woman that couldn't get me to say a simple no to her. I refrain myself from slamming the door shut and opt for silently closing it instead. I fall down on my bed face first.

Lina shouldn't be here. Tonight shouldn't be a night where she chooses to stay. I anxiously look out my window and get up to make sure it's locked shut. I feel my body stiffen as I refuse to even look out the window. Despite the thick curtains, however, I spot the lightening dangerously flashing along with a crack of thunder. I let out a shaky breath as I feel the walls close in on me. With neurotic steps, I fearfully look through my drawers.

Once finding my desired object, I gently set it down on my bedside table. It takes all the might within me to even let go of it.

"What does black stand for?"

I nearly jump out of my skin and turn around; ready to see something I'm not supposed to see. Letting out a small sigh of relief as I spot Lina by my doorway, she smirks, clearly amused that she caught me off guard. I ball my hands into fists, irritated. Now was not the time for this banter. I glare at her under my messy and wet hair, chills rolling off my body without fault. She needs to get out of my room. As if noticing my hostile attitude, her smile drops. She takes a cautious step forward closer to me.

But she stops when she notices my jaw clench. "Are you alright?" She murmurs, her calm and alert behavior back up once more.

"I think you should stay in your room, Lina," I almost growl out, my voice obviously having a certain edge to it. My throat aches, as it suddenly turns dry.

Shocked, she says, "I'm sorry. I was curious what the black notebook is for." As if testing my remaining calm demeanor, she glances behind me to see the notebook. I block her view, feeling the upmost anger rise within me.

I feel something within me snap when she meets my eyes. I'm losing it and she can't be present when I do. I rush forward towards her. Her eyes widen in alarm and she takes quick and silent steps back. I grip her shoulder and stop myself from pushing her out the door in anger. Just before I close the door at her tense face, I murmur, "I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

**A/N: So... What do you think so far? (:**


	9. Apprehensive Eyes

Lights are off.

It's dark in my room. Only the flashes of lightening outside my window are the only light source thanks to the slight opening between the two curtains. I sit upright in my bed, my back rigidly leaning against the wall. I didn't bother to change out of my wet clothes for the fear of tonight claimed my every bone. I glance at the wicked black notebook lying on my bedside table. I flex my fingers.

I tightly close my eyes shut and rest my arms pathetically next to my sides, my fingers still twitching. I let the sounds of rain and thunder consume me as I hang my head low. Faint touches of slumber reach out to me, and I desperately grab for it. Anything will be suitable as long as it gets me out of this world for a while. Slowly, I feel my tense shoulders slightly relax and the barely-there trace of sleep engulfs me.

At least I hope it does.

~O~O~

_Creak. Creak. Creak._

"It's open," I mumble out, only half conscious. I hear the door open slowly then it closes shut.

_Creak. Creak. Creak._

Feeling a presence next to me, I tiredly open my eyes, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. "Yes?" I murmur out to the beautiful woman.

She smiles, her pale and thin lips curving upwards. "Sit up," she commands. Without any hesitation, I sit up from my bed, replying with a small smile of my own. "You are angry," she muses, patting my shoulder.

I nod and look down at my hands, my fingers flexing. "I _was_," I reply.

"You're not angry now?"

I merely nod my head.

"Why so?"

I look up at the woman with exhausted eyes. Her smile is still intact as she patiently waits for my answer. Before I could even open my mouth, the lightening behind her flares from the window. She looks over her shoulder, her smile widening. I watch attentively as she walks over and opens the curtains. I hear her let out a sigh of content. She turns back around and leans against the windowsill, folding her arms across her chest. She cocks her head to the side, letting her hair flow over her shoulder.

The sight was beautiful. The way she stood while the lightening constantly flashes was deeply alluring. It was a sight that I _had _to keep. I quickly reach for the pencil and black notebook I prepared. I ignore the previous sketches that were drawn and flip to a blank page. I start to move my wrist, flicking it here and there with the pencil to get that exact beauty this woman radiated off her.

I take swift looks up at her to refresh my memory. I shade in shadows under her eyes and around her cheeks. I faintly sketch her thin lips. I draw in her locks of hair. In what seem like just a few seconds, I'm almost done. But as I look back up at her one last time to confirm everything, a spark of lightening explodes behind her. My pencil drops out of my suddenly frozen fingers and onto the floor. The noise it makes resonates in my ears. I feel all heat leave my body in one rapid motion.

The beautiful woman was now crying. Tears slightly sparkle in the moonlight as it trails down her cheeks slowly. I rush towards her, feeling my stomach drop at the sight. Something so beautiful should not cry. It was madness. It is almost like finding black roses bloom, the clear blue skies darken, and watching the light fade in someone's dying eyes. With no hesitation, I take her face into my hands, my thumbs softly caressing away the tears.

"Why are you crying?" I murmur as my voice cracks.

She whimpers and reaches up to catch my hands in hers, keeping them on her cheeks. "I can feel it. You're alone. You're so alone. Why?" She whispers.

I stumble back with a tight gasp escaping my trembling lips, her sharp words slashing my every nerve. The back of my legs hits the bed as she reaches out towards me this time, her eyes widening. Suddenly, dread bursts inside me as the lightening flashes behind her once again. She takes a few steps closer to me.

_Creak. Creak. Creak._

"Stop," I shakily command her as she continues to advance towards me. I fall back against the bed and my blankets quickly felt like they held me there.

_Creak. Creak. Creak._

I tightly grip my bed sheets in horror as she climbs right on top of me. Cold fear bites down on my skin. I feel one hand rest on top of my chest while the other lightly touches my face. Her fingertips leave freezing trails around my face down to my neck. She's going to suffocate me.

"You're lonely," she whimpers lowly, her tears now falling down on my paralyzed face. "Your loneliness is scary. It makes me cry."

"That is not something to cry about," I struggle with my words. I try to inhale sharp breaths desperately. I'm losing air.

"Yes, it is," she cries. I taste drops of her tears as it falls on my lips. I rasp forcibly, the taste horrifying. "Why do you feel that way? You have us. You have me."

"I'm not lonely!" I roughly exclaim through my frozen lips. Her sobs get louder in my ears. They ring louder and louder. My eyes roll back in my head as the sobs start to get deafening. "Stop," I command once more, still shaking in fear.

The rain and thunder intensifies, as her voice gets louder. Her once beautiful features twist, and she looks sinister. "Stop lying to yourself, Kibum. You are alone. You live in fear. It radiates all around you."

Every word spoken was like dragging her nails along a chalkboard. Shrieking. Sobbing. Deafening. Louder and louder, it rings.

Her eyes darken dangerously, hungrily. Her lips curl upwards, not in a smile but a sneer. She moves her face closer. I struggle wildly, thrashing my limbs everywhere on the bed. She leans closer. Closer. Her pale and thin lips kiss my forehead.

My head explodes.


	10. Crushing Silence

I attentively watch Lina from the breakfast table as she silently walks out of the guestroom, cautiously looking around. She takes light steps towards the front door.

"You're up early," I speak up, taking a slight sip from my cup of coffee.

She jumps as high as the ceiling. I feel my lips curve upwards in a smile. One of her hands rests on her chest where her heart is and the other is tightly grabbing onto her purse. I notice the effort in guarding her tiny purse and raise an eyebrow. "I didn't see you there," she murmurs, finally getting the courage to walk up to me.

I gesture for her to sit down, and she sits across from me. She gnaws on her bottom lip. "Well, I almost didn't hear you leave the guestroom." I comment, my voice eerily calm.

Her green eyes meet mine, stunned. "Then how did you notice me?"

She narrows her eyes as my smirk widens. "Twist."

"How could that possibly be a twist?" She exclaims, loudly banging her fist against the table. My eyes land on my cup of coffee, watching the way the liquid vibrates. I look back up to lock eyes.

"You're the one who claims to read me like an open book, so you tell me," I challenge.

Her lips twitch, as if she's trying not to smile. "You're impossible sometimes," she whispers. My ears peak up at her statement and I grin. She scoffs under her breath and grabs a slice of toast. She roughly bites into it, thinking. I continue to sip my coffee comfortably, gently drawing into my red notebook. "What do you draw in the black notebook?"

I stiffen in shock, my hand drawing a stray black line across my sketch. I squeeze my eyes shut before meeting her eyes. She looks back at me with a smirk on her face. I glare straight into her eyes, finding her worst possible nerve to hit. Resentment builds up in me once again. Lingering traces of fear swims around in my stomach. Probably reading me like an open book, her smirk fades away little by little.

"Is it really that hard for you to tell me what's—"

"Don't ever mention the black notebook."

"What?" Her eyes widen at my sharp statement. Her eyebrows furrow in surprise. I grip tighter onto my pencil, pressuring the point of it against the notebook. I look away first, out the window. Unlike yesterday, the sun is out. There isn't a cloud in sight. It was beautiful. Days like this would actually bring me outside to capture the scene. But today just doesn't seem to be a day with this dangerous curiosity hanging in the air.

"Look. I was just curious. You were so agitated last night. You were shaking so much and you started getting rough. I just wanted to know what was wrong. I was so worried about—"

"Enough," I bluntly cut her off.

At the corner of my eyes, her face hardens. "Stop being so rude and let me finish a sentence, Kibum." She starts, her voice dropping dangerously low when she says my name. I snap my eyes at her, glaring. "I heard you scream—"

_Snap!_

I harshly throw my broken pencil and notebook down at the floor as I jump to my feet. My chair flies back and loudly hits the wall. She slightly flinches at my sudden actions. Her hand quickly goes to her purse in shock. I slam my hands down the table and lean towards her. I feel my lips pull up in a sneer. "Enough, I said," I growl, my anger rolling out with my words.

Surprisingly enough, she keeps her composure. She exhales a small breath. I notice the tiny shake in her voice. My lips pull up higher in arrogance. Am I finally seeing a tinge of fear?

Silence unfolds. Seconds turn into minutes, as we both stay rooted in our spots. I don't even dare to open my mouth. I take the silence to calm my erratic behavior, now feeling the regret sink in. I'm really losing it. She looks back at me, still as a doll. Confusion and curiosity swims in her green eyes. All hint of fear slowly disappears.

"What is inside that notebook that makes you so sensitive?" She finally murmurs out. My shoulders tense up again and her eyes widen. I hold back another outburst, seeing the mistake in her eyes. She must have accidentally wondered out loud. For the sake of her safety, I pull away from her completely. I straighten my back, making her look up at me from her seat. Her hint of fear was back.

And the sight makes me want to scream.

A woman so beautiful shouldn't have that look in her eyes. So, I reach forward and roughly grab her wrist. I pull her out of her chair and forcefully drag her to the front door. She struggles against my hand, but I don't even hear a weak whimper escape her lips. I chuckle lowly as I look back at her. Composed as always. "It's time for you to leave," I whisper, my voice still gruff from my previous anger.

Her eyes widen larger than before. She grows still and simply looks at me. "You can't tell me when to leave," she whispers back.

I thoroughly look into her eyes, watching the way the color looked like it swirled around her pupils. My eyes cast down to her lips, slightly curled down in a frown. When I reach her eyes again, I say, "This is my house."

I try to pull her out the open front door, refraining myself from tightening my grip on her wrist. She starts to struggle out of my hold, her strength surprisingly strong. Annoyance bubbles inside, and I keep it at bay.

"Wait," she exclaims once I finally get her to go outside. She stops the door from closing just like last time. A sense of déjà vu overwhelms me, making me clench the doorknob. She takes a moment, looking at her up and down. Her eyes no longer hold the fear. Instead, it's back to being analytical, sizing me up. She locks eyes with mine. Her look sends a shiver down my spine. "I still want to keep meeting with you."

I close my eyes just as the words leave her mouth. I was expecting this. A deep sigh escapes my mouth. When I look back at her, her face clearly shows anticipation, hope. I take a longer moment to reply, the look on her face stunning me to silence. Hope? Was there ever such an emotion like that directed towards me? It seems so foreign that even thinking about that word was abnormal. "Just never come back into my house," I finally let out.

I shut the door before she could let a single word out. It was rude, yes. But I don't think I can handle any more turmoil for today. So, I lock my doors and head straight into my room. I curl up in a ball, hugging onto my knees on my bed. My mind swirls with nonsense. Curious questions. Analytical face. Tense attitude. Rigid actions. Unnerving silence. Everything had a piece of Lina in it. Everything in my head has a picture of Lina. Soon enough, they all fade away.

Her fearful green eyes stay instead.


End file.
